


Through Glass

by winterlace



Series: Porcelain & Sand [2]
Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:55:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1534967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterlace/pseuds/winterlace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only way out is back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through Glass

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to "Porcelain & Sand"

i. She’s standing in the kitchenette. The kettle boiling behind her when he enters the hotel room. Even though she’s had a lot of sex with this guy she still feels unbelievably conscious of her naked form beneath the towel loosely wrapped around her. She still feels uncomfortable when his eyes, blue as they are, stare at her. That stare still brings a warm flush to her skin. Still makes her body hum with anticipation.

Her hair is still wet, hanging in heavy chunks around her face, rivulets of water seeping down her back and over her shoulders. He casually throws an envelope on the small kitchenette bench, walking around the corner with a predatory smirk.

“Have I told you how hot you are when you’re wet?”

She tries not to giggle yet it’s so typical of him that you would think that after four weeks she would have become familiar to him, his liberal use of double entendre, or that she should have just remembered. He had been like this in school. He’s clearly aroused and not bothering to hide it when he pulls her tightly against him. He seduces her, not that he needs to, but does so with firm calloused hands stroking her cheeks, with hard demanding kisses and insistent hips. She’s never been able to say no. Not once in four months. She doesn't want to say no.

And he’s insatiable.

In four weeks she swears they’ve completed or attempted every position in the Kama Sultra. He pulls her back to the bedroom, shedding the cheap hotel room towel along the way. It’s a blurred sequence of events that lands him naked and beneath her. Her hair is still soaking, dripping over his tanned body. It was erotic, seeing the water glisten on his skin.

After four weeks she was still surprised at the contrast between their flesh. Hers so pale and dark, him so tanned and golden. In the mirror glued to the sliding wardrobe door, they are reflected like ying and yang. His hands on her hips brought her back from her thoughts, he was rocking his hips into hers and she still couldn’t believe how unbelievably good it felt.

She pointedly ignores the look of awe in his eyes. She’s never been anything special and she’s still wondering why she’s still in this dingy hotel room. Still with him.

She always cums. And when they’re too exhausted to continue they curl around each other, the sheets, blankets and pillows… and drift off together into the land of sleep.

 

ii. She wakes as the suns last rays linger on the ocean. He’s wrapped around the doona, his back to her. She slides off the bed gently taking the thin sheet with her. In the movies they never stumble but she does. She flushes furiously, grateful that no one was there to witness it and gathers the sheets higher and tighter around herself.

The pristine crisp white envelope lay innocently on the bench. She knew exactly what was within it the moment he walked into the room. She turns the envelope over and reaches in and pulls out two stiff pieces of paper.

She glances up and it’s her reflection staring back at her from the kitchenette window. She’s a ghost on its surface, a girl of pale transparent skin, washed out eyes and lips that appeared to have not much life in them at all. Her hair though was an impenetrable black.

She didn’t know who she was anymore. She did know what she wasn’t though. She wasn’t Madison, who flew all the way to Australia to hide and try and forget. But nor was she Mac, left alone wrapped in only a sheet in the Neptune Grand while her boyfriend plunged to his death.

_“Why would he do that?”_

She shivers at the echo of that night. A bare memory. Almost a dream. But still painfully clear. She pulls the sheet tighter around her body. The shiver spread out over her skin, raising gooseflesh.

She looks down at the paper in her hand. Insignificant when she really thinks about it. Insecurities though, never truly put to rest after that night, bubble away insistently in her gut.

She drops the papers carelessly, moving to the couch… staring outside into the washed out black of the sky.

The back of her neck continues to prickle as if someone’s walking over her grave. Two one way, first class airline tickets to Neptune, California stare heatedly at the back of her skull.


End file.
